June 12, 2017

Some points about Dyer-Rawat comparison

The problem with odious, deliberately provocative comparisons between any two wrongdoings as a way of criticism is that unless the scale and proportion of the two significantly match, they can come across as ludicrous. More importantly, they tend to undermine the egregiousness of the original cause.

Reading about the now passing controversy over academician Partha Chatterjee comparing India’s Army chief General Bipin Rawat with the notorious British Brigadier General Reginald Dyer of the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre of 1919, I don’t quite know what to make of it.

On April 13, 1919, Dyer ordered British troops to fire on unarmed Indians on an enclosed public square in Amritsar, Punjab, that mercilessly killed 379 people, including children, and wounded 1200 more. The massacre came to define the inherent cruelty of the colonial British rule over India. The massacre remains etched in India’s national memory. Although Dyer was forced to resign after an investigation, the outrage in Britain over his action was nowhere close to what one might have expected. In fact, Winston Churchill, then secretary of war, in a speech in the House of Commons praised him and honored with a ceremonial sword that had the inscription “Saviour of the Punjab.”

In contrast, General Rawat is the army chief of a sovereign nation who took over only in December, 2016, some 27 years after the insurgency began in Kashmir. The immediate reason for his criticism is a much commented upon action by Major Leetul Gogoi who tied a resident of Srinagar in front of an army jeep as a shield in the face of the ongoing stone-pelting by Kashmiri separatists. Rawat has taken an unambiguously tough stand on the issue and expressed support for Gogoi and his “innovative” approach and even awarded the officer. Rawat has extensive experience in high altitude warfare in Kashmir.

Chatterjee’s comparison, published in ‘Democracy’, the mouthpiece of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) or CPM, found particular attention because he is a well-known social scientist. Having covered the Kashmir insurgency for several years since its inception in 1989, I can tell you that the army-insurgent dynamic has always been fraught with fundamental human rights problems. The army has the thankless job of keeping Kashmir firmly under India’s control in the face of a relentless campaign of terror and separatist insurgency fueled by Pakistan. But then having a thankless job is not in and of itself a justification for a questionable conduct nor should it immunize it against any criticism. It is undeniable that the Indian troops in Kashmir are under constant threat from a kind of guerilla warfare that has now repeatedly upended life there for close to three decades.

Positions—ideological, cultural, political and military—are so firmly entrenched that it is next to impossible to justly apportion blame. Kashmir invariably plays into India’s core sense of its definition about itself as a nation-state. Nothing here is safe from the Indian people’s inevitable sense of self to the extent that Kashmir embodies it geographically, ideologically and culturally.

Given that context, not to mention the over-the-top Dyer-Rawat comparison, it is not possible to have a reasonable debate on the subject. In my younger days I would have happily jumped into the fray vigorously arguing various points of view. But now, it seems rather futile to say anything at all. It took some prompting from within to say even this much.

My fundamental point is that even if Chatterjee’s purpose was to point out the excessive nature of the army in the peculiar context of Kashmir, I think the comparison defeats that purpose completely because there is no serious comparison. My worry is that such comparisons greatly diminish the need for a very genuine debate to be had over how the Indian army should battle a long simmering insurgency that explodes from time to time. The place is so prone to unceasing national second-guessing that it has become very hard, if not impossible, to be fair and rational.

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Some points about Dyer-Rawat comparison

The problem with odious, deliberately provocative comparisons between any two wrongdoings as a way of criticism is that unless the scale and proportion of the two significantly match, they can come across as ludicrous. More importantly, they tend to undermine the egregiousness of the original cause.

Reading about the now passing controversy over academician Partha Chatterjee comparing India’s Army chief General Bipin Rawat with the notorious British Brigadier General Reginald Dyer of the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre of 1919, I don’t quite know what to make of it.

On April 13, 1919, Dyer ordered British troops to fire on unarmed Indians on an enclosed public square in Amritsar, Punjab, that mercilessly killed 379 people, including children, and wounded 1200 more. The massacre came to define the inherent cruelty of the colonial British rule over India. The massacre remains etched in India’s national memory. Although Dyer was forced to resign after an investigation, the outrage in Britain over his action was nowhere close to what one might have expected. In fact, Winston Churchill, then secretary of war, in a speech in the House of Commons praised him and honored with a ceremonial sword that had the inscription “Saviour of the Punjab.”

In contrast, General Rawat is the army chief of a sovereign nation who took over only in December, 2016, some 27 years after the insurgency began in Kashmir. The immediate reason for his criticism is a much commented upon action by Major Leetul Gogoi who tied a resident of Srinagar in front of an army jeep as a shield in the face of the ongoing stone-pelting by Kashmiri separatists. Rawat has taken an unambiguously tough stand on the issue and expressed support for Gogoi and his “innovative” approach and even awarded the officer. Rawat has extensive experience in high altitude warfare in Kashmir.

Chatterjee’s comparison, published in ‘Democracy’, the mouthpiece of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) or CPM, found particular attention because he is a well-known social scientist. Having covered the Kashmir insurgency for several years since its inception in 1989, I can tell you that the army-insurgent dynamic has always been fraught with fundamental human rights problems. The army has the thankless job of keeping Kashmir firmly under India’s control in the face of a relentless campaign of terror and separatist insurgency fueled by Pakistan. But then having a thankless job is not in and of itself a justification for a questionable conduct nor should it immunize it against any criticism. It is undeniable that the Indian troops in Kashmir are under constant threat from a kind of guerilla warfare that has now repeatedly upended life there for close to three decades.

Positions—ideological, cultural, political and military—are so firmly entrenched that it is next to impossible to justly apportion blame. Kashmir invariably plays into India’s core sense of its definition about itself as a nation-state. Nothing here is safe from the Indian people’s inevitable sense of self to the extent that Kashmir embodies it geographically, ideologically and culturally.

Given that context, not to mention the over-the-top Dyer-Rawat comparison, it is not possible to have a reasonable debate on the subject. In my younger days I would have happily jumped into the fray vigorously arguing various points of view. But now, it seems rather futile to say anything at all. It took some prompting from within to say even this much.

My fundamental point is that even if Chatterjee’s purpose was to point out the excessive nature of the army in the peculiar context of Kashmir, I think the comparison defeats that purpose completely because there is no serious comparison. My worry is that such comparisons greatly diminish the need for a very genuine debate to be had over how the Indian army should battle a long simmering insurgency that explodes from time to time. The place is so prone to unceasing national second-guessing that it has become very hard, if not impossible, to be fair and rational.